She Leans from Herself

Soon to be woman
she leans from herself
as light from the moon
looking into a river,
a river of water
arranging new shores.

Hesitation shores
her longing toward woman.
Running clear as water
over weeds of herself
she searches the river
that holds the moon.

A turning moon
pulls narrow shores
into the river.
Between girl and woman
she gathers herself
a tide of slow water.

Low on the water
by the sliding moon
she sees herself
with irregular shores
and no peace for a woman:
land cut by a river.

Bound by the river
two lands beside water
she struggles toward woman
by a lonely moon
with hostile shores
to harbor herself.

Using all of herself
to deepen the river
so brimming with water
she rushes old shores
over stones into woman
on the arm of the moon.

Nearly moon herself
she is woman: a river
that shores vivid water.